


Run For Cover

by Borusa



Category: Serrano Legacy - Elizabeth Moon
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 19:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Borusa/pseuds/Borusa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Brun Meager is the subject of an assassination attempt, friends spirit her away. On the journey to safety, she encounters an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run For Cover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Carmarthen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmarthen/gifts).



The first Brun Meager knew of the conspiracy to murder her was when they shot her friend Kate Brierley. Her instant reaction, throwing herself into the shelter of the doorway of one of the upmarket shops on Rockhouse Major, meant that the second shot only caught her on the shoulder, rather than taking her in the head. Her luck apparently hadn't deserted her, despite the way things had seemed on occasion during the last decade. The fact that she wasn't dead, however, didn't stop her shoulder from hurting. She clamped a hand over it, feeling the warm blood seeping through the remains of her jacket. Looking would almost certainly not help, so instead she looked over at Kate. The Lone Star Ranger was clearly in trouble, lying motionless. Brun considered going to help her, but without knowing where her assailant was located, she couldn't risk it. Instead, she reached for the panic button in her jacket pocket, at the same time muzzily wondering where her security detail was. She was, after, the Speaker of the Grand Council of the _Familias Regnant._ For what that's worth. She pulled the small device out, and looked at it. If her security hadn't reacted then who knew whether anyone would come when she called. Or whether they would be here to help or to finish the job. Instinctively, she put the device back in her pocket, and slowly pulled herself to her feet, her hand leaving bloody marks on the porch of the shop. A shop. A shop that was presumably still open, even if, like all exclusive shops, it required permission to enter.

She looked over at Kate again, trying to see if she was breathing. No sign, but the angle wasn't that good. There was plenty of blood on the street, and even if some of it was Brun's, there was still an awful lot of Kate's there. Brun sighed, and turned away. Her shoulder had gone from painful to numb, which she wasn't convinced was a good sign. She inched towards the shop door, and pressed the entry request button. For a long moment, she thought they wouldn't let her enter. Were they in on this too? She felt faint, and rather appalled at how quickly she had started seeing conspirators. Was there even a conspiracy? The missing security team, the fact that she and Kate had only decided to go out at the last moment. It wasn't exactly evidence, but it felt wrong to her, and she had learned to trust those instincts. Still, it could just be shock. Shock and blood loss, for now the side of her jacket was completely soaked. It had been an eternity since she had pressed the button, surely? Finally, the door opened, to reveal a well-dressed assistant with a disapproving look. Brun staggered past him.

“I'm Brun Meager,” she said, surprising herself with how weak her voice sounded. “Can I... use your comm?” 

The assistant's eyes widened in recognition. “Madam is bleeding profusely,” he said, as if it was a personal affront to him.

“Your comm?” she repeated, desperation creeping past her self-control. He gestured at a booth towards the rear of the shop, turning his back ostentatiously. Brun just about made it there, slumping against the wall as she keyed in a number from memory. Just let him be there, she thought to herself.

“Starbridge Mahoney,” George answered, looking unctuous for a moment before he took in her appearance. “Oh dear,” he said, the unctuous look disappearing instantly.

“George,” Brun said. “I need help. They shot Kate.”

“Where?”

She looked around, and saw a selection of bags by what was obviously a salesdesk trying to look incognito. She blinked, struggling to get her eyes to focus on the legend, pushing back the darkness that was impinging on the edges of her vision. “Old Aare Designs,” she said, eventually.

George nodded. “Don't go anywhere.”

Brun sighed, reaching for the traditional exasperation but coming up empty. “I'm not sure I can.” George disconnected, and she attempted to stand up. There wasn't any strength in her legs, though. As she collapsed onto the floor, through darkening vision she saw the shop assistant looking contemptuously at her. Apparently it was bad form to die in his shop, even if you were the Speaker.

* * *

 

The next thing Brun was aware of was the insistent beeping of some kind of machine. She tried opening her eyes, and for a moment feared she was blind. Instead, the room was very dim, just the light from a machine by her bed. She looked around. Walls... machine attached to her... bed. That seemed to be about it. Some kind of hospital perhaps. Definitely not the upmarket shop she'd been bleeding all over. She closed her eyes again, and slept once more.

When she woke again, she was instantly aware that she wasn't alone. “Who's there?” Her voice sounded like she'd been gargling sand for a month.

“A friend,” the reply came. A female voice. Brun could just make out the outlines of the other woman's form, but not any of her features. Still, there was something familiar about the voice. She just couldn't think clearly enough to place it. “You're on a ship. Heading somewhere safe.”

“Rockhouse...” Brun said, struggling to process the information.

“That's definitely not safe. There's been a coup.”

Brun tried to sit up. “What?”

“Don't worry, for now. You need to get better first.” The other woman moved to the machine, and Brun began to feel sleepy again.

“Drugging...” she whispered.

 “Just until you're better.”

The third time she opened her eyes, she definitely felt better. The room was brighter, and she could see that it was actually a well-appointed stateroom, if a little on the small side. The machines seemed to have been removed. Cautiously, she lifted a hand, pushing the covers aside, and felt her shoulder. Bandaged, but it seemed whole. She tried sitting up and, despite feeling weak, managed to do it. She smiled triumphantly at the achievement. After a few minutes, she felt well enough to try standing up. It took a while, first manoeuvring her legs over the edge of the bed, then propping herself up with her arms, almost collapsing when her shoulder proved to have nothing like its old strength in it. She pulled herself upright, and wobbled alarmingly, grabbing for the wall opposite to steady her. There. That seemed OK. Now a step, and then another one, still propping herself up on the handy wall. The door slid open as she approached, and she peered out. Had she been kidnapped, or was this George’s work? A woman, dressed in a shipsuit that looked very much like a uniform came around the corner. She didn’t look obviously evil, but Brun wasn’t stupid enough to think that meant anything. It had been a long while since she had been. She shrank back into her room, but not quickly enough.

“You’re awake,” the woman said, stepping into the door way to prevent the door sliding closed. It wasn’t possible to tell whether she was pleased or disappointed. “I’ll have to tell the Captain.”

“Can I... leave?” Brun asked, more to judge the response than to get the answer.

“We’re approaching jump,” the woman said, “and it’s possible we’re being followed. So, if you don’t mind staying here...”

 _And not getting in our way,_ Brun completed for her. She nodded. “Thanks,” she said, letting it trail into a question.

“MacRobert,” the woman replied. “Ky MacRobert. I’ll tell the Captain.” She turned and left, the door shutting closed behind her. Brun felt her way back to her bed and sat down again. Kidnapped or rescued. Did kidnappers usually give their names? But if she’d been rescued, why take her off Rockhouse Major. Where were they going? She didn’t have enough information. She looked around the room. If only... there was. The system access was hidden, probably unintentionally, behind the only chair in the room. She turned the chair round, using her better arm, and then pulled up the system. After only a few minutes, she began to smile.

* * *

 

“Scan’s clear, Captain.” The report was delivered with the professionalism that she demanded from all of her crew. The scan tech wasn’t the best she’d ever worked with, but he was competent enough. She nodded. “Position us for the next jump. I’m going for some downtime.” And, she added to herself, to have a rather awkward conversation.

The Captain paused before pressing the control to open the door. She was an experienced ship’s captain, now, with her own commercial charter yacht. There was nothing in the cabin for her to fear. So why was she balling her hands into fists and digging her finger nails into her palms? And why did her mind keep flashing back to events fifteen years ago? She took a deep breath, pulled her shoulders back, and opened the door.

* * *

 

Brun looked up as the Captain entered, and blinked. It was hard to recognise the girl she had known in the woman who stood in the doorway. She had a confidence that reminded her of Heris Serrano. Or, not quite. There was none of the hard discipline and extreme self-control of the military about her, the carapace formed by externally imposed authority. The authority and confidence this captain had came from the inside, from self-knowledge and experience.

“Hi Brig,” Brun said, climbing to her feet.

“Brun,” Sirkin replied, a smile just creeping onto her lips. “Why are you always in trouble?”

Brun thought about protesting, but instead shook her head. “Do you know what happened to my friend Kate Brierley?” she asked. It was one of the pieces of information that she hadn’t been able to get out of the system.

Sirkin’s smile faded. “I’m sorry, Brun,” she said. “George wasn’t able to get to her in time. Rockhouse... has erupted, rather.”

Brun felt the blood drain out of her face. “I...” she said, biting her lip. “Poor Kate.” She looked away, and then back to Sirkin. “I know how you must have felt, when they shot Amelie,” she said quietly.

She saw Sirkin blink in surprise. “Oh.”

Her cheeks felt wet. She had thought that nothing could make her cry anymore, but it appeared she was wrong. She tried to blink them away, and couldn’t succeed. Then she felt Sirkin’s arms around her, half-holding her up, half-hugging her, helping her down till she was sitting. Then she released her, and sat herself in the seat opposed.

“Would you tell me about her?” Sirkin asked.

Brun took a deep breath, composing herself. “You asked me once about Registered Embryos,” she said. “And I told you that we were designed to be heterosexual.” She paused, marshalling her thoughts, focussing on the words rather than her emotions. “I think, for whatever reason, because it’s complicated, that didn’t work for me. Or not fully. I’m still not sure. I had... we had... well, you know. I wasn’t sure, back then. Maybe I’m not sure now.” She paused, searching for the next thread.

“Was Kate your first?” Sirkin said.

“She wasn’t... we didn’t. But I wanted to. And I think she knew, but I’m the Speaker. I spent a decade working myself around to saying something. But there was always another thing. You know that we hadn’t been able to change things as quickly, as much as I wanted to. Too many entrenched interests. Possibly some outside influence.” She was aware that she was wandering away from the point, and made an effort to get back. “So, I’d decided that it was time. To at least ask.”

“And then?”

“Then someone killed her.” The anger had finally come.

“You know that there’ve been disturbances, throughout the Familias, of course,” Sirkin said. “It looks like someone has been organising them.”

“The Consellines.”

“Yes. George told me that he thought the Benignity , too.”

“Where is George?”

“Still on Rockhouse, as far as I know,” Sirkin said. “He and his father are keeping a low profile, and trying to marshal the rest of the Familias. That’s not the worst of it, though. There’ve been mass incursions from the Bloodhorde and the Baltic Confederation.”

Brun shook her head. “And I’m stuck on a ship. Running away.”

Sirkin looked like she might bristle at this, but instead laughed. “No. Buying some time. Recuperating. We’re heading to the one place you might be safe. Because as long as you’re alive, and we can prove it, then there is a government of the Familias Regnant, and that’s worth a lot.”

 Brun furrowed her brow. “Where?”

“Excet Colony 24.”

“Ronnie!” Brun exclaimed.

Sirkin nodded. “We’ll be there in about three weeks. And then we can start planning to fight back.”

Brun made to speak, but was overtaken with a yawn. “How can I be tired?” she complained. At Sirkin’s look, she sighed. “Because I’ve been injured, and I’m still recovering.”

The captain stood. “I’ll let you rest.” A pause. “Would you have dinner with me, later?”

There was an invitation there, subtly. “I’d like that,” she said. “And... thanks, Brig.”

* * *

 

It wasn’t that night. Or the next. But about a week later, after a dinner in Sirkin’s quarters, they’d been talking, sitting together, remembering old friends and planning for when they reached Excet. A moment of silence. Brun realised she’d been staring at Sirkin’s lips while the other woman had been talking. And it was as natural as anything to lean forward and press hers to them. It felt as good as Brun thought it might. Far better than any of those fumbling kisses from her Bubbles days. She pulled away, after a moment. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I... before, you turned me down.”

“I’m not the girl I was then,” Sirkin said. “And you aren’t who you were, either. This might only last this trip. But that would be fine. I don’t define myself by my partners anymore.”

Brun considered this, for a moment, but then Sirkin was kissing her. And it wasn’t retiring, or coy, but inviting and hungry and passionate.

 

For a moment, Brun thought of Kate, but it was more of a goodbye than a hesitation. She felt no betrayal, and, to her surprise, no shame. Perhaps it was time she stopped being defined by her past, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to C for encouragement and S for excellent beta-reading.


End file.
